


my body is your party tonight

by mayorcocko (docboredom)



Category: Planet Booty (Band), TWRP | Tupper Ware Remix Party (Band)
Genre: Established Relationship, Eventual Smut, Feelings Realization, Happy Birthday Bitch, M/M, Multi, Polyamory, Polyfidelity, Warm and Fuzzy Feelings, and the love, and the understanding, it's about the build up, nsfw tags in the work, serious conversations about consent and growing relationships, you've read my fics you know i have to write a story
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-26
Updated: 2020-05-27
Packaged: 2021-03-02 22:42:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,968
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24394447
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/docboredom/pseuds/mayorcocko
Summary: Everyone deserves a surprise on their birthday, especially the Mister Doctor Samsung Galaxy.
Relationships: Doctor Sung/Lord Phobos (TWRP), Doctor Sung/Lord Phobos/Dylan Germick, Lord Phobos/Dylan Germick
Comments: 10
Kudos: 15





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Updated chapter warnings because I'm actually using my brain now: 
> 
> Exhbitionism mention, implied past Sung and Phobos being inappropriate in public, not much else to be found!

“Dylan.”

“Pinky.”

This wasn’t a standoff. A standoff would have required some kind of animosity, a rivalry, a conflict. And when it came to Dylan Charles Germick, all of those things were virtually impossible. Still. There was a moment where their gazes met through the doorway and they both seemed to pause somewhat, sizing each other up, gauging the mood...

But then the other man went and hurled himself at the Lepid in true Dylan fashion, leaving just enough air in Phobos’s chest for a great big laugh as he tried to steady their bodies out. 

Dylan didn’t wait. He never did. “Ooh, look at you, how high tech and fancy~” He ooh-ed and ahh-ed as he tweaked his fingers along all the new angles and planes of the updated helmet Sung had made for him, all careful prodding and gentle discovery. “I finally get to see all this shit in person and I gotta say, Phobos, you look mean now. And sound scary! Should I be worried?” He quirked his mouth to the side with a toothy grin. “You planning on kidnappin’ me?”  
The built in vocoder drew his giggle down hellishly low without him even trying, so opposite to his usual soft laugh. “Maybe to the kidnapping, but no to the worrying.” At least, Phobos told himself, not yet… “Can I come in?” 

“Like you gotta ask, _Lord_ Phobos.”

“Well it’s _polite_ to ask!”

“Oh, so you’re not mean then?”

Phobos laughed again, this time coyly. “Never said that, Dylan.”

Dylan went through his own exercises of politeness as they walked inside. Asking Phobos if he wanted anything to drink, to eat, told him to sit unless this was the kind of conversation that held a time limit. “You’re worse than Sung.” He teased as he clicked his helmet off, letting his antennae wriggle around aimlessly. 

“Psh…” He rolled his eyes and made himself busy with the magazines and books on the table, as well as the coasters there. Always moving, just like Sung, he thought as he watched quietly, unable to keep himself from smiling. Phobos was half tempted to try to help, but he knew he’d end up being more of an inconvenience at that point than anything. “Listen, me’n’shorty might enable each other, but he’s at a level I like to consider physically impossible. Partially because I am rapidly approaching my forties-”

“Dylan. You are 36.”

“Case and point, Mister… what are you, anyways? How old, I mean.” Dylan came to a full stop, left eyelid twitching.

“ _That_ is a question for Havve.” Phobos dodged the question none too smoothly, landing himself onto Dylan’s couch and finding a loose thread to pick at immediately. Physically? Twenty-six. By means of space time travel and quantum leaping and general space fuckery? Add a thousand years on top of that. Maybe more, maybe less. Not that that was important.

Leave it to Dylan to be undeterred though. His fingers found Phobos’s now bare cheek, pinching it, relentless. “Yeah, yeah, you’re the baby of the group. Of course age doesn’t matter to you, Pinky.”

Phobos batted at his hand and started huffing. This was going terribly and they hadn’t even really started. Plus he _hated_ being called baby... unless Sung was sing-songing it, voice warm and sweet and syrupy. “You know I can just leave.” He huffed in a pathetic attempt to get some kind of high ground.

“But are you going to? After all the hard work it took to get here?” Dylan waggled an accusatory finger his way and Phobos had no choice but to yield. Fine. Checkmate. Maybe _this_ was their standoff. There had to be some kind of tension given the nature of his visit. What he wanted to say… “Mmm hmm, that’s what I thought.”

“I’ll take that tea now, Dylan.” He managed in his haughtiest voice, gesturing towards the kitchen pissily. The dismissal only earned him a chuckle and a quick hair mussing before the other man sauntered off, promising he’d be back with something good. 

The Lepid bit back a groan the moment Dylan was gone, sliding down onto the couch until he was completely horizontal. He was starting to think this really _was_ stupid. He could still brush it off, keep his mouth shut, not go forward with asking-

“Christ, I’m no empath, but you look fucking miserable, Phobos.”

Dylan was back with two steaming mugs, features drawn worriedly. That obvious, huh? He wanted to laugh, albeit painfully. “Please don’t tell me someone died and you’re kidnapping me to some kind of space funeral.”

“Gods, no.” Phobos threw an arm over his face with a forced laugh, pink cheeks flushing even further than their natural rosy hue. “No one’s dead. No one’s dying. Well, I might. Of embarrassment.” He filled in the last part hastily before Dylan could have a meltdown. He sat up and held his hands out for the cup. Wanting the grounding warmth pressed into his palms and fingertips. “Please?”

He was silent as he handed it over carefully. That was the one comfort he had about all of this. That it was _Dylan_ , after all. That he moved through the world with an easy smile every day and little to no judgement. He kept his distance without being distant. He would do everything in his power to make the situation bearable if it went south. He was safe here. He could do this. He just had to talk. “...It’s Sung’s birthday soon.” Phobos started and Dylan kept his words contained in reply, his expression neutral. “And um, I’ve been thinking about this for awhile. It’s not… anything out of left field.” Except it was. Or maybe it could be. Try and stay focused, Phobos.

He had practiced this how many times in front of the mirror? Behind the safety of his helmet soundlessly, both new and old? He tipped the cup partially and relished in the warm wash of lavender and honey over his senses. Clever, he couldn’t help but smile into the cup, if not obvious. “...I’m going to be presumptuous, only for a little bit.” His dark eyes flicked up to Dylan’s, antennae curling self consciously. 

“Presumptuous about _moi?_ ” Dylan’s lips curled behind his own cup under his mustache, his eyes twinkling. “I’m on the edge of my seat, Phobs, don’t keep me waiting.” Ah, gods, he made this so easy, so hard too…

“You like Sung.”

A pause followed. A beat, really, lost in the skipping of his heart. Dylan stayed unblinking as Phobos swallowed and put his cup down, forging forward despite his uncertainty. “And by that I mean you like Sung the way _I_ like Sung.” Because he’s my boyfriend, was the obvious yet unspoken truth that followed suit after that statement, because we’ve been dating for almost ten years. “Probably since we first met two years ago, you know, Milwaukee.” He led in. “Shank Hall.”

Phobos tightened his grip on the mug and threw back another swig, feeling impossibly dry mouthed and anxious. There was something else coating the bottom of the cup as the honey washed over his tongue. Brandy? Had Dylan put _brandy_ in this? The desire to laugh tugged through his twisting gut again, reeling and incredulous. “And he likes you too. A lot.” Now he could see the worry flaring in Dylan’s eyes, his lips parting as if to reject the idea, expel it, exorcise it back into the great unknown. “Gods, I’m not mad, and I’m not breaking up with Sung!” Phobos interjected before he could, knowing where Dylan was going to take the conversation. “Just- just let me… I’m getting there.”

Dylan’s spine went slack and he gave a slow nod, trying to regain that neutral mask for Phobos’s sake probably, but failing spectacularly. Phobos didn’t blame him, but he kept his eyes averted for what came next. Say it. Out with it. Be done. “I love Sung, obviously. I’ve been in love with him since I was fifteen. And I trust him, so um, I guess what I wanted to ask was… what I came here to say was…” Say it, say it, say it already, Phobos, before you chicken out. “Would you… like to… m-maybe um, surprise Sung with uh, a t-threesome for his birthday? Say? T-Tuesday afternoon?”

The mug slipped from Dylan’s grasp and onto the carpet with a muted thump, tea and honey and brandy spilling out magnificently across the plush carpet. Phobos stared at it, then stared at Dylan, then gulped for a breath. “This was a stupid idea.” He blurted before sitting up violently. Bad, bad, bad.

“Phobos.”

“Awful, really.” Where had he put his helmet? Everything was in a terrible tunnel vision all of a sudden, the corners of his vision running black. He felt sick. He felt like he couldn’t breathe, a way he hadn’t felt since his teens and early twenties. “Please forget I said anything.” He begged on a whistling breath.

“Hey. _Hey._ Look at me, Phobos.”

Dylan was there, fingers curved around his upper arms but hold loose enough that Phobos could tear away if he tried. If he needed to. “Close your eyes and inhale for me, Phobs. Four seconds in, hold for seven, exhale for eight.” Phobos only half managed it, breath shaky the entire time. “Give that another go, Pinky.” The second time came easier, the fluttering of his heart settling, nerves loosening up. “There we go.”

Now he just felt _embarrassed._ Phobos pressed his lips together and stared down at his scuffed Converse pathetically. He felt one of Dylan’s hands move from his shoulder and without any kind of warning there were soft fingers tilting his chin up, bringing their gazes together once more. 

“Alright, let’s rewind a lil bit.” Now both hands were cupping his cheeks, pushing his wild hair back from his forehead, smoothing down his temples. So self assured despite not having ever touched Phobos like _this_ before. Different from Sung in the way he didn’t let his fingers stray to his antennae or the nape of his neck. Different, but good. “Let’s start at Sung’s birthday, yeah?”

“Mmm.” Phobos hum-sighed. 

“S’my turn to be presumptuous now.” He could hear Dylan smiling even as he closed his eyes. “You said surprise, so I’m assuming this hasn’t been something you two have discussed.”

“I mean…” His eyes flickered open. Yes and no. He wouldn’t ever forget the way Sung’s bottom lip had caught worriedly between his teeth after the Earthen album release show for Together Through Time, stumbling through excuses about kissing some girl’s hand and then letting Dylan get all up in his business during the finale. Even before that... when they had done that stupid photoshoot, Sung’s hand straying to Dylan’s thigh, their gazes caught. And the only thing he could think of was to laugh it off, to tell Sung to make it up to him that night when no one else was watching.

But then the tour itself had happened that summer and oh, oh, oh, Dylan had a habit of touching all of them, but there was always something _more_ about Sung. A lingering that Phobos was all too familiar with himself. A need to find any excuse to be close. To be touching. To be in the other’s orbit.

He should have been wary, jealous, angry.

He hadn’t been.

“There was one time we got drunk.” Phobos gave a helpless little laugh as he came back to the present moment. “Talking about crazy things we wanted but hadn’t tried yet, for whatever reason...” Liquid courage on a late summer night on Lady World, no one else in the world but him and Sung and the three smiling moons gazing down at them. “No one said any names-” 

_Sung had closed his eye and let the words spill straight from his mouth, nearly swallowed by the sighing crash of the ocean nearby. “You, me, someone else. Hands everywhere.” He had slurred against Phobos’s shoulder, hips slotting against his side purposely, body moving of it’s own accord. The Lepid had tipped his head to the side without any kind of real thought himself, desperate for the hot, wet press of Sung’s mouth on him already, hazy mind eagerly trying to conjure the image up._

“-but we both agreed on it.” Phobos told Dylan, feeling breathless again, for a completely different reason. Because gods, when he had closed his eyes back then, all he could picture was the human. There hadn’t been anyone else.

There had been plenty of reasons sober Phobos had been able to come up with after the fact when the sun had found their twisted up forms, the thought not so subtly creeping through his head. They knew Dylan. They _trusted_ Dylan. He seemed… the most likely for it given his personality. There had been moments on stage that Phobos himself had had with the human, Dylan’s mouth curved under the spotlight, teasing him about the way he moved his body, his hands seemingly everywhere (“hands _everywhere_.” came Sung’s voice again at the realization, hitching and eager and impossible to ignore) as the crowd went wild with it. And the best part, the craziest part, was knowing that they were all watching, that Sung was too...

He might be just a _little_ bit of an exhibitionist. 

The empath didn’t help with that.

Dylan’s thumbs were making thoughtful little circles on both sides of his jaw, the action soft, comforting, turning Phobos into useless putty, the last of his doubt sighing out of him. “I feel terrible that the first thing I wanna say is I’m flattered.” Dylan finally said in a helplessly fond voice, causing Phobos to giggle back just as helplessly, if not more so. This was so crazy. So wildly inconceivable. It came as even more of a surprise when Dylan pressed their foreheads together, prompting him to give a soft little gasp. He was so used to being the taller one. To leaning down into Sung’s space rather than up into someone else’s. “You know though, you are not the first to ask.”

“Of course not.” Phobos snorted despite himself. It was Dylan, after all, he reminded himself. He could only imagine what the other man had been offered. What he had agreed to. What he had done in the past... None of that mattered now. That was a conversation for later. Right now what did matter was how neither of them was moving, their faces angled towards one another, knowing what came next but unsure of how to enact it. “We should clean up the tea before it stains.” He whispered when nothing happened.

Dylan’s brow slanted as he gave a rough laugh. “Shut up, Phobos.” He told him before kissing him.

And oh, this was supposed to be for Sung, really. He hadn’t factored himself into the equation that their three bodies would become if Dylan agreed, if they pulled this off somehow. Having agency in this wasn’t something Phobos had considered. Being told where to go and what to do had been the expectation. A means to a sweaty, gasping, satisfactory end. 

Except now Dylan was kissing him with honeyed lips so soft that Phobos couldn’t help but fall apart at it. He clung to the other man’s shoulders with a shuddering gasp, reeling at the way Dylan’s mouth worked. Sung grinned into every kiss they shared, nipped and played and teased his way along the Lepid’s lips until he was chasing after him, laughing and huffing as they fell against the nearest sturdy object. Dylan was much slower though, thoughtful, drawing him deeper and deeper until Phobos was dizzy from it, nearly panting from the effort. “Forget your breathing techniques already?” Dylan teased and Phobos managed a bleary glare in his direction.

“Fuck you, Dylan.” Phobos muttered and it got him chuckling. 

“I’m going to be presumptuous again, sweetheart, and say that’s the end goal.”

He snickered, unable to help himself, too amused for his own good. It got Dylan to snort and chuckle too and suddenly they were both laughing and clinging to each other, almost stumbling over themselves just like they had been before they had gotten in the apartment. No dying from embarrassment, Phobos marvelled. No regret. Only a fledgling sense of rightness and belonging. A long time coming, perhaps. “Dylan.” He gripped the front of his t-shirt, righting himself out. “If there’s one thing that needs to be said now, going forward, is I don’t top.” Phobos gave him an awful little smile as his antennae bobbed, feeling both shy and coy and incredible. “That’s on you.”

Dylan’s mouth curved itself into a pleased smirk at that, eyes going dark and hooded as his thumbs hooked into his belt loops. “And Sung?” He murmured, dragging Phobos nice and close.

Gods. “And Sung.” Phobos confirmed with a flush.

“It _is_ his birthday though… Ah, we’ll play around with it, see what we can come up with.” Dylan mused before blinking away the heated look. Not so much breaking the spell that had fallen over them as he was adjusting himself to their newfound dynamic. There was no going back from kissing one of your closest friends, after all. That was something Phobos personally _knew_. “Now? We talk logistics. Details.” He grinned, awful and wolf like. “Tell me all the naughty stuff.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> howdy okay, wow, I'm using my brain, I'm getting this done
> 
> Minor spanking mentions in this chapter! And an increasingly desperate Phobos.
> 
> Next chapters gonna be the GOOD STUFF

It had taken a lot of work and bribery and planning, but they had actually managed it without Sung knowing what was happening until it actually was.

All the empath did know was that he was excited for the end of the month, which in turn made _him_ excited and always asking after Phobos about what was going on before demanding he keep his mouth shut. “Tell me, wait, _don’t_ tell me.” He would start every morning before Phobos shoved a pillow over his face, went to get breakfast, and tried not to freak the fuck out.

The first and only time he had started to have second thoughts about all of this Dylan had been so understanding, gentle and unaffected as Phobos’s own heart raced and his doubts started to crowd in, his voice a pleasant balm. “I still wanna come up there for his birthday, if that’s alright with you?” The human asked casually, conversationally almost, and it made it that much easier to bear. “I think that’d be a nice surprise. Just the three of us, yeah?”

He was right but he still felt miserable, to the point where he couldn’t bring himself to respond. Dylan made a soft sighing sound on his end, sounding painfully close despite being a million miles away from where they were, leagues of space separating them. “Y’know, why don’t you give it a few days and call me back. I’m not going to be upset if you’re suddenly not comfortable with doing this, Phobs. It happens. You ain’t got nothing to worry about.” 

“Okay.” He sniffled weakly despite the reassurances. He wished Dylan was already here. Wished the other man could hug him until all the worry and sadness was squeezed out. “Thank you.” Phobos rubbed at his face uselessly. It sounded better than I’m sorry or I miss you, he figured.

Dylan gave a warm laugh on the other end, perpetually unbothered. “Don’t gotta thank me, Pinky, take it easy for me though.”

It took him two days to call back, courage gathered up and second thoughts figured out. Dylan didn’t even bring it up until he did, well after they had agreed that an overnight surprise trip to Ladyworld would be the most fun. “We can have a sign too, or a code, if um… if it seems appropriate… you know. Later on...” Phobos offered when they both went quiet, moments away from hanging up. He heard Dylan stop whatever he was doing on the other end and felt a spike of guilt stab through him. Was it too late and caught the other man off guard by the new proposal? Had he fucked up?

“...Please tell me it’s going to be something painfully obvious. Like we’re not even trying to be subtle.” Dylan said after he apparently collected himself, causing Phobos to blow out a relieved breath and relax. “Now I know you taught Sung some sign language, but does he know how to sign sexual intercourse?” A pause followed, gleeful and indecent. “Do you, Lord Phobos?”

He pressed his lips together and tried his best not to laugh, knowing Meouch would come asking unnecessary questions, or worse, Sung. “Dylan.” He hissed pathetically, shoulders shaking from the effort.

“I’m about to Google this because now I am curious.” He suddenly sounded far away, probably already looking. Gods, he was _incorrigible_. “I’m thinking we do that or go with the classic finger bang. You know what I’m talking about?”

“I’m hanging up now.”

“Oh baby, you love it.” Dylan purred closely and without warning, causing him to jump and nearly fumble his phone. He was worse than Sung, Phobos decided. Not a hint of subtle to be found. “I’ll do you the favor and DM you some of the examples.” He continued, bright and easy.

“You will do no such thing!” Phobos shrilled before nearly throwing his phone at the engine room’s wall. “Goodbye, Dylan!”

“See ya soon, sweetheart.”

And maybe he’d forever indebted to Meouch after having the Leoian taxi a private little scouter ship between their part of the galaxy of the Milky Way not once, and not twice for Dylan, but a total of four times after this would be all said and done; and maybe he’d never get over the complete and utter embarrassment of having to beg Havve please, please, please to keep the walls of his link up until they got back, the implication obvious, the robot’s annoyance tangible- but it was all worth it when they walked through the door to their suite and all was revealed to Sung.

“Gods, you _really_ didn’t have to do all of this. It’s just a birthday.” Sung was saying as he tried to get their digital key to work on his communicator. He was half distracted, or maybe it was better to say he was over excited and not really thinking, prompting Phobos to take his wrist gently and twist it the other way around. It gave an eager, welcoming beep as the lock clicked open, prompting Sung’s lips to curl up all nice and sweetly. “Gosh, you’re smart Phobos.” He told him on a warm hum.

“So says the super genius.” Phobos wasn’t wearing his helmet so it was too easy to press a swift kiss against his jaw. “I’m making up for thirty, after all.” He told him as he took the lead and pushed the door open, pulse palpable in his throat, his palms. Convincing Sung to come here and check in with his pylon on had also been a lot of work, but it had been the only way of keeping him guessing and unable to figure it out, and it was about to pay off.

“Oh… volcano planet birthday?” He chirped curiously. Only Sung could make a week of being stranded in the catacombs of a steadily filling series of magma chambers on a distant planet sound like an afterthought. “That wasn’t so awful.”

He shook his head, amusement sparking. “Shush. C’mere.” Phobos then crooked his fingers. “Close your eye for me, Sung.”

“Gods, your birthday this year is going to be absolutely ridiculous.” The empath insisted, but he still obliged, albeit slowly, letting Phobos fold his hands over his visor as they both entered the room.

One step, two. Phobos marvelled as he took in the open airiness of it all, the wooden herringbone flooring, the ridiculously plush and oversized mattress. “Mmmhmm.” 

“I’m going to figure out quantum physics.”

Three steps, four. “I’m sure you will.”

“Take you to the birthday universe.”

“Oh, goody.” He finally saw Dylan on the balcony with the windows thrown wide open, sunglasses perched on the end of his nose, wearing a simple blue polka dot button up, boat shoes and khaki shorts, grin bright enough to rival the sun as he barely listened to Sung. “I’m sure there’s _plenty_ out there.” The human winked and Phobos pressed his lips together hard. 

“Even better!” Sung crowed. “I’ll take you to all of them. At bare minimum twenty seven, to make up for every missed one.” He was starting to get fussy now, hands coming up to paw at Phobos’s, core flickering on and off. “C’mon, I wanna see it already! I can smell the ocean!” He paused and leaned his body back, issuing a pleased sigh, the light of his settling down. “Hear it too.”

“No offense shorty, but you sound like a dog.”

Phobos didn’t even have a chance to flutter his hands away, Sung immediately tearing forward at the sound of Dylan’s voice with an excited yelp. There were no questions or second guessing like there had been when he and Dylan met a month ago, just the empath latching his arms around tight, his joy palpable. “Whoof! Nevermind! I see you’re part koala bear.” The older man grunted as he took the brunt of the flying tackle leap, hefting Sung up. “Jesus, you buffer now? How’d you manage that?”

“You’re here!” He said as a means of greeting, ignoring the completely valid question, one that Phobos even wondered himself. “Holy shit! You’re here! On Ladyworld!” His head whipped around, and even with his visor on Phobos could tell his eye was widening. “You- this- that’s-” Sung spluttered, realization dawning over him. “Phobos…”

His pride swelled. No matter what the outcome of the night was, he had done this. Wrangled Dylan through seas of stars and all of space-time itself to surprise his boyfriend on his birthday, and it was already off to an amazing start. “Surprise.” He wiggled his fingers, curling his antennae happily.

Just like that Sung was hugging _him_ instead of Dylan, his face seeking out the crook of his neck even as the pylon made it damn near impossible. “I love you so much.” He breathed out as he fisted the back of Phobos’s shirt, throat working up and down. Phobos murmured it back automatically, relishing in the warmth of the other’s core against his own chest, the rightness of their pressed forms. He could feel Dylan watching as he traced the line of Sung’s spine and it took _everything_ to keep his head bowed. “Gods, I’m about to lose it.” Sung rasped before twisting at the waist, leaving Phobos with the responsibility of unbuckling the cone. “How’d you even get here, Germick?” 

“Thank your commander and his handy-dandy space forgery. Being an ex-space pirate pays off, I’ve learned.” Dylan knocked his glasses up onto the top of his head. “Well, that and your incredible boyfriend.”

“A month.” Sung spun and pinned him with a judging glare, as if he had gone and done something bad instead of incredible. “You kept me in the dark for a _month_.”

“For a good reason.” Phobos chided as he fixed Sung’s hair, nails scraping purposely against his scalp. “You can’t actually be angry with me when you asked me not to tell you.” He teased as Sung gave a tiny little shudder and fell back against him, seemingly boneless. Sometimes he was so easy. His most favorite book to skim along, knowing every little bit by heart and memory. “Especially not when we have company.”

“Dylan,” Sung cleared his throat. “As it is my birthday, I must now ask you to go to your room, as we have business to attend to.” Oh. Phobos’s eyes shot up to Dylan’s as the human’s widened marginally. Sung, now without his obtrusive headwear to keep everything out, picked up on it immediately. “Huh? What?” He looked back and forth. “What’s happening? Was that inappropriate? Thought I was being subtle...”

Well now you’re not, Phobos snorted to himself, but Dylan decided to talk over him, suave and unaffected. “Ah, well I don’t wanna step on anyone’s toes, but we kind of had this whole day planned out for you, shorty.” He said smoothly, not so much lying as he was avoiding the most important detail. That was a problem for future Phobos and Dylan if their plan fell through, half thought out and simmering on the back burner. “Phobs told me how much you like showing this place off, so we were thinking you pick out your favorite places and we pay for it. Best of both worlds kind of dealio.”

The empath’s mouth hinged open. It seemed Dylan was well versed in how to win arguments with Sung too. Done best by distracting him. “This is ridiculous...” He mumbled after a bit, sneaker scuffing along the nice flooring, teeth pressing into his bottom lip, his whole being uncharacteristically shy and sheepish. “You really don’t have to do all this for me, you know.”

“Mmm, what were you telling Pinky before you came in? Making up for lost time? Let’s put it that way.” Dylan came close. Close enough to ruffle Sung’s hair, fingers lingering among the sandy locks like they belonged there. “It’s either that or 30 plus spankings, Doctor Sung.” He quirked an eyebrow, his voice humming and low. “Pick your poison, I’m good for either one.”

It was wildly strange to watch Sung flush rose red against the constellation of his freckles, core burning bright all at the ease of Dylan’s drawl. Phobos was so used to the empath’s little smirks, the heated looks that came after almost every concert, being wrapped around his finger and being _eager_ for it, not knowing what else to do with himself. This though… this made his mouth dry out in a good way. Made his heart knock around his ribcage. “Uh, haha…” Sung laughed a little nervously. Not bad nervous though, Phobos understood almost immediately, shy _e_ _mbarrassed_ , as if Dylan had caught him red handed in the proverbial cookie jar. “Think I uh, gotta go with the original.” Sung threw him an apologetic look, nearly a grimace. “Sorry to disappoint.”

“Oh, darn.” Sung’s eye widened even further at the casual monotone Phobos offered up, but he was already shrugging it off with a roll of his shoulders, feeling brave and invincible as he felt Dylan’s delighted gaze fall over him. “Fun’s just getting started.” He whispered close to Sung’s ear, not missing the way the other jumped slightly. “C’mon.”

*

“I think I’ve died and gone to Heaven.”

“Welcome to Ladyworld, Dyl.”

Things had, for lack of better words, calmed down since they had gotten their luggage and left the hotel room. Dylan had beat around the bush about how his room _still_ wasn’t ready (“Looks like I’m not important.” He had stuck his lip out in a faux-pout as Sung snorted at his supposed plight. “I hope that’s not how they treat _all_ humans, y’all.”) before Phobos offered their own room for now. The whole lobby was open air with impossible crystals and delicate glass work floating and humming in the breeze, their explorations leading them to neon lit tea rooms, shallow waterways filled with little creatures, hallways lined with swaying palm trees and marble statues. They probably could have spent the whole day there, but then again, why not with everyone on a day they could all enjoy it.

So Sung spent the day leading them around the incredible sprawl that was Ladyworld as their self appointed “official unofficial” tour guide. Phobos had heard it all before when he had been six-or-seventeen when they first came here, but watching his better half walk backwards through the crowds and gush to Dylan about all the little things that made this paradise made his heart soar. In a way this was Sung’s only home. The place he always made his way back to, where he’d probably settle down once he got all the groove crusading and touring of the universe out of his heart. 

What Phobos would give to be there with him once they reached that inevitability. To fill a house on the ocean with gentle revelry and endless music...

“So it’s like this _every_ day?” Dylan was asking, purely incredulous as Phobos approached the other men with two ridiculously over the top cones of sangria sorbet. They were so close to the ocean now and leaned up against a railing, watching the crowds of tiny people dance and swim through the frothy waves aimlessly. “Christ, I wouldn’t want to leave this place if I were you, Doc. I got people and family back home obviously, but y’all… why don’t you stay put?”

The Lepid went to Sung’s left side, tucking the smaller man neatly into the middle of him and Dylan, handing the treat over to his boyfriend. “Phobos is going to tell me to keep it short. I _know_ he’s thinking it.” Sung gave a helpless little laugh before biting at the sorbet absentmindedly. “There’s days where I’ve thought that too, but if we hadn’t kept exploring, if we hadn’t decided to go to Earth one day, we never would have met all of you.”

Dylan’s brows sketched up into his hairline, iced coffee half tipped back towards his mouth, caught off guard. It wasn’t a look he wore often and it was endearing to watch. “Ladyworld and Earth aren’t comparable. There’s a _lot_ of bad places out there, Dylan, and bad people. Any one of us could tell you that on any given day no matter what. But when you are elsewhere and you find gleaming good moments… that’s what drives us.”

“Gods, waxing poetic on your birthday.” Phobos chastised the smaller man as he poked his cheek in the following silence. He did it again when he didn’t get a response, until Sung made a face and puffed his cheeks out. “You did keep it short, but far too serious for the occasion.”

“Pinky’s right.” Dylan jammed his finger into Sung’s sorbet without any kind of warning before slipping it into his mouth. Sung squawked and Phobos watched pointedly, feeling his own cheeks flush. “I know you said the days here are endless." Dylan pulled his index finger out with a soft 'pop.' "But we only got so much time before your birthday dinner dee-luxe, fun size.” 

“Urgh, please.” The spell was broken as Sung groaned, the last traces of his seriousness slipping into the skyline, Phobos hastily remembering himself. “Lunch was already too much. I’m stuffed.”

“Uh, you say as you’re getting down on that ice cream!”

“Uh, it’s called sorbet, Dylan, there’s a difference.”

Phobos gave a small giggle as he leaned his head on top of Sung’s comfortably, giving himself a moment to breathe and soak the sun up. “Well, if you don’t feel like eating, I might have another idea for the evening.” Oh no, he looked straight up _devious_ when Phobos looked his way. What was this bastard going to say? “Something to sweat all those pounds off.”

Phobos nearly choked. This wasn’t how they planned it. What had happened to dinner and drink and walking the beach together until he gave the sign? _If_ he gave the sign? No, no, no. Sung could probably feel his trepidation, but he didn’t care. “Dylan-” He started, voice strangled and breathless.

“Clubbing.”

Oh.

“Clubbing!” Sung gasped delightedly, nearing chucking his half eaten cone airborne in his growing excitement. “Holy shit, clubbing!? Please? We’ve _never_ been. You’ve never been, right babe? You’d tell me if you went clubbing. I’d tell _you_ if I’d been clubbing-”

“Sung.” Phobos murmured, but he wasn’t watching him. Instead Sung was all wide eyed and breathless and pressing up on his tiptoes into Dylan’s personal threshold. And Dylan was thrilled by the response, obviously, his own face half tilted into Sung’s. There it was, like clockwork, that magnetic draw of theirs. An effortless gravitation that only they could create.

“Can you believe I’m over the age of thirty and I’ve never gone clubbing?” Sung whispered in dismay. “Listen, if we act quickly, we can ensure the same fate doesn’t befall Phobos.” He leaned further forward, impossibly so, losing his balance without any kind of warning before stumbling face first into Dylan. Dylan caught him though and barked out a laugh. "Won't be able to dance if you break your ankle!" He warned. It made his stomach give a little twist watching the two of them, antennae curling down as his mood dropped. It'd be weird to tumble against them even though he desperately wanted it. He tried not to think about the quick way Dylan's tongue worked over his finger. How he already missed kissing him. "That’s uh, that’s okay, right Phobs? If you made reservations…” Sung glanced over his shoulder, looking apologetic. Seemed like he had misread his awkward despondency, which a good thing, honestly.

“No, no, it’s your birthday.” He trusted Dylan and he trusted Sung. And this would be the perfect opportunity, he tried to tell himself before anxiety and doubt made him double guess himself. “We’re here to have fun, right Dylan?”

Dylan's eyes glimmered. “Oh baby, we're gonna have loads of fun.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> good morning it's 5 am, i hate myself, im going to bed
> 
> warnings:
> 
> wow, they actually fuck, but before that there's minor exhibitionism, minor voyeurism, public indecency on the dance floor, the good ol sensitive core physics lore, minor humiliation stuff (5%, it’s barely there lmfao), frotting, dirty talk...
> 
> that should be it... i think... god why did i do this to myself fuck you doctor sung you're my worst enemy

Dylan had planned for this and Phobos didn’t know whether he wanted to kiss him or punch his lights out.

He had his suitcase spilled out on the floor, glitter and sequins and bright patterns all spewed about. “You brought all of this with?” Sung marvelled, legs butterflied out as he dug his hands into the unbelievable pile. “This is like, tour season stuff.”

“This is the usual, shorty. And then some.” Dylan unearthed a slim fitting sleeveless turtleneck and held it up to Phobos. “You’d look good in this, Pinky.” His voice was mild, but the implication was not. I want to see you in this, he meant, and you’re gonna give me that. “I think I got some pants to match.”

He did and they were terrifyingly low, the kind that slung their way onto your hips and barely held on. Phobos stared at them without seeing them, painfully aware of how hot his face was. “Sung, you gonna tell me why I’m hyping up your boyfriend more than you are?” Dylan shot after a second, tossing a t-shirt at the empath’s head.

“Excuse you, Germick, I’m waiting to see the final product! Besides! Phobos makes everything look good.” He was excited too and the Lepid couldn’t blame him. “It’s cos he’s so perfect.” Sung dimpled his way happily, hair pushed back off his forehead by his favorite visor. 

He had to wonder what Dylan would end up giving to the other man. Something to show off his arms, probably, and tight enough so you could see the way the rest of his body was built. Sung’s smile shifted and Phobos realized how obvious he was. Good, he forced himself to think as he tightened his grip on the pants. Sung was his super hot empath boyfriend that could sing stars into existence, damn it, it’d be _weird_ if he wasn’t into him.

“I’m gonna go um, try this stuff on.” He felt them both watching and it made his antennae jump. Gods, his skin felt too hot, his thoughts running a million miles a minute. If Dylan wasn’t there, he and Sung would already be laid out on the mattress, Sung’s hands slowly spreading his legs wider as he begged for the other’s man cock. And if Dylan was there and Sung was in the know? _Hands everywhere…_ He’d probably be pressed up against Phobos’s back, hands framing his hips, Sung leaned up against the headboard with his shirt half rucked up watching them. Or maybe Dylan watching them? Or the opposite? 

Poor Sung. He just had to sit outside and deal with his emotional backwash. Phobos grimaced at his flushed expression and yanked the sink on, making sure the water was extra cold before he splashed it across features. He could do this. He would do this. And it all started by putting the outfit on. 

The pants were so tight they reminded him of his morphsuit, and the turtleneck was next to nothing, Phobos discovered, a mere slip of stretchy fabric. He looked so different when he caught his reflection in the mirror, both unkempt and mysterious, a far cry from his usual oversized shirts and comfy overalls. 

“Oh.” He spun and saw Sung there. “Sorry I uh, just wanted to check on you, make sure you were alright.” He had a bundle of clothes clutched against his chest that were masking his core. His eye dragged it’s way down Phobos’s body, breath giving a subtle hitch as he took in the way they clung to him. And gods, he felt incredible with it, wildly out of control. 

“Different, right?” Still, his words were tentative, a shy smile gracing his features as he pushed his hair back. “But I really like it-”

The lock on the bathroom door clicked and Phobos only had a second to process it before Sung was kissing him.

It had been hours since their mouths had last touched like this, sighing against one another before Sung’s teeth pulled at his bottom lip and he had no other choice but to open up. He felt the edge of the bathroom sink push into his hip, their feet tangling. “You’re so off balance today.” Phobos managed on a gasp, his arms coming around Sung’s neck easily. “You’re going to break your leg before we even start dancing, like Dylan said.”

“Why the _fuck_ are you talking about my legs when you look like this?” Sung gave a rough laugh before he pulled his hips up onto the endless counter. They were being too loud. Too obvious. He ought to protest it more but knowing that Dylan knew made it that more delicious. “Gods, like a fucking heart attack.”

“That doesn’t make sense.” Phobos choked out as Sung slid his hands over his sides and up his back, careful across his wing scars. He could be so rough sometimes, but he also knew when and where to be gentle. He tugged at the bottom of Sung’s shirt. “Dylan’s going to start wondering.”

“And?”

And we should invite him. It’d be so easy to say it here and now, Sung’s lips pressed to his pulse, his hips canted closely. Phobos hooked one leg around the empath’s lower back and framed his face oh-so-gently before drawing it up to him. “Tonight.” He said on a soft exhale, trying to calm himself. “When I don’t have to keep myself quiet.” Phobos added, smoothing his hands down Sung’s broad shoulders, eyes falling closed. “When we can take our time and enjoy ourselves.”

“I hate when you get logical during sexy time. It’s the worst. I think we should break up.” Sung huffed. But there was understanding there, and respect for the small limit Phobos had imposed. “But also like, hi there, you’re very handsome.” Sung grinned winningly. “Would you like a very buff, very well endowed boyfriend?”

“Gods.” Phobos shoved at him, squirming back dramatically. “Get dressed.”

Sung gaped, looking wounded. “You’re not even going to help me with that?”

“Nope, because _that_ is a trap!” He said over his shoulder before he exited the bathroom. He tried not to think about how he was still half hard, about how Sung was pulling off his clothes now, about-

“God _damn_ , now that’s a look.”

Dylan.

Never a dull moment on this vacation.

It had been a few years since he had seen the sequined blazer Dylan now wore with no shirt underneath. He had on dark pants too, and even darker glasses perched on top of his head, drawing out the silvered glimmer of his outfit, the gold of his hair. “Sure shorty felt that way too.” Dylan waggled his eyebrows as he tied his sneakers up. “He made quite the beeline to check on you.” 

“Surprised you didn’t follow suit.” Phobos quipped back, feeling brave. He had his own Converses to slip on, a little ratty sure, but better than his flip flops. He heard Dylan’s teeth click and he smiled at the floor all too eagerly, unable to help himself. “But I mean, there’s tonight to think about…”

He felt Dylan tug one of his curls distantly before winding it around his finger. “You like that one? I asked the concierge about all the fun and exciting things adults could do on Ladyworld, she’s the real winner.” How was he still kiss starved? All he could think about was kissing Sung, kissing Dylan, leaving but not leaving. Dylan noticed. “Tell me what you’re thinking about, sweetheart.”

“Sung’s gonna burst out of the bathroom if I do.”

“And?”

He threw his head back and laughed, a thing of delight and disbelieving. They really _were_ similar. “Tonight.” He repeated his promise as he caught Dylan’s fingers, carefully squeezing them. “After we get on the dance floor.”

“I like the way you think.”

*

Dylan had managed to make Sung look both incredibly attractive and downright adorable. Wearing no more than a sleeveless hoodie with yellow stripes racing up the sides, his visor, jeans and his light up shoes (“You brought _those_?” Phobos said just a little judgingly, prompting Sung to give a hurt gasp before muttering something about he could have brought his Heely’s and how Phobos had an awful taste in foot wear), and he looked fucking good. “You guys look all fancy, and I look like I’m heading to Bonnaroo!” 

“The great thing about clubs is everyone is fucked up and you can barely see anything. I don’t know if that’s gonna be the case here, though, but that’s what happens down on Earth. Speaking of.” Dylan drew his hand across both their chests, managing to stop both of them. “One round of shots is all on me, but I’ll be honest, I’m trying to stay sober tonight.”

“No, that’s smart.” Phobos agreed readily. “Birthday boy gets two, if he wants.” He had noticed Sung pouting and went for the immediate damage control. “I want you to remember tonight.” He said in a lower voice near Sung’s ear. “Be there with me.”

“Nothing less sexy than puking your guts up, Doc.” Dylan added with a gentle nudge. “You don’t gotta be wasted to have a good time, ‘specially since this is your first rodeo.”

“Don’t. You’ll make me think there’s a mechanical bull.” Sung said morosely “And even if there is, Phobos won’t let me get near one.”

“ _Havve_ won’t let you, Sung.”

Sung gasped excitedly. “Are you saying you’ll let me ride the bull tonight!?”

“Gentlemen, gentlemen!” Dylan waved his hand. “I require focus, and walking towards our destination.” Dusk was finally beginning to reveal itself, Ladyworld’s three crescent moons dusted across the horizon. There were so many people and beings scattered across the sidewalks, bits and pieces of conversation floating towards them. He folded his hand into Sung’s and brought it up to his mouth, kissing all of his fingers as they followed after the human.

“Oh wow!” Sung craned his neck back, voice a thing of wonderment. “Is this it? I’ve always wondered about this place!” It was a reflective glass pyramid emanating every color imaginable, like an infinite rainbow. No line, thankfully, just two robots running bioscans to ensure legality. Sung squeezed his hand, core flickering, already bouncing on his feet. He always got hyped up on large crowds, riding high off the endless waves of their euphoria. “Stay with me.” Phobos rephrased himself from before, making sure to layer it with multiple meanings before they crossed the threshold.

It was a completely different world inside, as if they had slipped across the universe. Hazy smoke lining the floor, flashing lights and neon, bass so loud you could feel your bones shake. “Oh! Now this is what I’m talkin’ about!” Dylan shouted over everything. “C’mon, bar first!” He made a grab for Phobos’s free hand before dragging both their bodies along. There were anti gravity cages filled with dancing bodies, thousands of strangers, a dance floor made of starlight. “I can’t wait to bring Josh here!” Dylan announced with a genuine smile. “He’s gonna love it!”

Whatever shots Dylan then bought them were phosphorescent, changing colors under the disco lights. “This looks like liquid death.” Phobos said directly against the shell of the human’s ear. He didn’t do yelling, not if he didn’t have to. Dylan chuckled in reply and twined their arms together, tipping his shot back towards Phobos’s. 

“Trust me!” He yelled as Phobos returned the favor, and he found himself grinning wildly at the other before they threw the drinks back. He tasted pomegranate and lavender, sugar and honey, so many other things, barely burning on the way down. “They call that one liquid ambrosia.” Dylan said as he licked his lips as Phobos tried not to shake his head in quiet judgement, ignoring the little cry Sung let out. “Pretty good, huh?”

“Wait, wait, I didn’t get to trade shots with anybody!” Sung did still had both shots in his hands as he pressed his lower lip out. “What kind of birthday bullshit is this, huh?!”

If they had been smoking, he would’ve just shotgunned it back to Sung, but liquids were a different story. “You snooze, you lose.” Phobos stuck his tongue out before glancing towards Dylan, feeling a damning pull. “Y’know, if you open your mouth real wide, we can take turns pouring them.” He said out loud, surprising everybody including himself. 

Dylan recovered almost instantly with a look of savage delight. “Oh, why’s he gotta take turns when we know he can handle both of ‘em?” Dylan purred eagerly. “You’re good for it, right Sung?”

“Uh…” Sung blinked, apparently not expecting that kind of response, core flaring under his hoodie. “I mean, yeah uh, I’m… r-ready whenever you are!” Again there was that laugh again, high and tittering and endearingly embarrassed. It was _really_ starting to grow on him. 

They flocked to either side of Sung, just like at the beach, taking the shots from him. “Head back.” Dylan said, and when Sung hesitated Phobos did it for him. “Attaboy, now open up.” To anyone else, it’d look like three dudes dicking around before hitting the dance floor, but there was something about how Sung’s throat worked, lips trembling faintly before he followed through. Phobos almost forgot to pour, too intent on watching how Dylan made everything seem so effortless, like his body had been born to it. Sung swallowed and gave a little shudder, leaning back against them momentarily. “You good?”

“M’Great.” He knew that tone, and because he and Dylan sat down that one day, so did the human. Phobos pushed his hair back with a comforting sound, watching in silent satisfaction as the older man wiped Sung’s lip off, nice and carefully. Dylan was touchy-feely. The action wasn’t out of the ordinary. But everything was starting to feel _different_ now. The lines were blurring between all of them. “Can we dance?” Sung blurted at Phobos. “I kinda wanna dance now.”

“That’s why we came here, after all. I’ll be around.” His gaze was smoldering, his mouth bastardous, and Phobos could swear he was pure temptation. “Let you two be alone.” It was a miracle Sung hadn’t figured it out by now but he still wasn’t telling the empath, wanting to drag it out.

Instead he dragged him towards the middle of the dance floor, letting his body take charge for now. 

“Gods.” Phobos knew what he was saying without explaining it. It was hot, bodies on every side pressing in, keeping their own forms close. For a moment Phobos worried that Sung’s core would overload, but the flush on his face was one of excitement and alcohol, the sea green of his eye storm heavy and dark. “I don’t know how to thank you.”

He kissed his cheek, then the corner of his mouth, discovering that Sung’s mouth tasted like clove and cinnamon. “You don’t gotta thank me.” The Lepid mouthed as liquid courage ran through his veins, mixed with his earlier adrenaline. “You do have to dance with me though.”

Sung obliged, twining his arms up and throwing his head back with wild abandon and a live wire excitement. He looked beautiful like this, every sharp angle and muscle thrown in a drastic highlight, core shining like captured starlight. I love you, Phobos thought as he hid his face against the side of Sung’s neck, feeling the pulse that raced there as their bodies moved together. So much so that he felt like he could die from it and he’d be happy with the outcome. 

“I love you too.” Of course Sung felt it even when he couldn't speak it. He was petting the nape of Phobos’s neck now and it felt like heaven, and despite everything the world seemed to narrow down to only them and the words they shared. “You’re the song my heart sings, Phobos.”

They kissed easily then, slowly, not caring who saw. He felt Sung’s palms slide over his thighs before dragging him infinitely closer, tongue chasing after his. “I’m going crazy.” He rasped and Phobos felt how hard Sung was here in the middle of everyone. Gods, gods, gods. “Please.”

Phobos cocked his head. “Please what, Sung? You want me to get you off right here?” He murmured over the thrumming bass line, speaking in a way he never thought possible for himself, but apparently came _very_ easily given the circumstances. “In Dylan’s jeans too? I never knew you could be so awful.” And Sung whined at it, eye rolling back at Phobos’s words, hips giving a little desperate jump.

“Dylan would…” He seemed to think better of himself, pressing his lips together before casting his gaze away shyly. Phobos took that as a sign to slowly shift him, letting Sung fall back against chest, running his teeth along the side of his neck as he dragged his hands up. He heard Sung give a little gasp, jolting as Phobos neared his core. “Aw, fuck, _haah_ …”

There _were_ eyes on them suddenly, prompting Phobos to look up. He saw Dylan only a few people away from them, arm in arm with a gorgeous Incubi alien. Unfortunately for her, he was only half dancing, his attention focused on the two of them. He watched the way Sung’s back arched. He watched the way Phobos’s fingers found the zipper of the hoodie and subtly pulled it down. His eyes skipped to the flickering of Sung’s core before jumping up again. 

He forgot the hand sign.

It didn’t matter, thankfully.

Dylan took his sweet time making his way towards them after he slipped away from the other alien, but maybe it was for the best, because Sung was half gone and unaware what was happening until Dylan was tipping his chin up. “Now look at you two.” He purred. “Putting on quite the show over here, where anyone could be watching.”

The empath made a confused noise in the back of his throat before turning his head to Phobos. Tell him now, now, now. This was the moment. “S’okay.” Phobos said against his pointed ear. “We wanted to surprise you.” He gave his own awkward swallow, the truth fragile and newborn. “But we wanted to make it special. This is your real present.”

“We can be serious about this all tomorrow.” Dylan said as he let his hands go over Phobos’s, catching Sung between their bodies again, just a little differently this time around. “But right now?” Dylan leaned his head down, his voice going soft, his gaze even softer. “I’ve been wanting to do this for years, shorty.” He grinned right before he kissed him.

Sung gave a startled little keen as their lips touched, which in turn got Phobos’s to grind his hips into his backside, hissing weakly at the friction. He couldn’t stop thinking about that stupid bed back at the hotel, how they’d all fit into it, or how he wanted to rip off all his clothes and touch Dylan. It had taken what? Less than thirty minutes to get to the point they were at now. “Phobos told me all about you. What turns you on, what you like, all your sensitive parts.” His fingers skimmed near Sung’s core and the empath could only throw his head back onto Phobos’s shoulder with a strangled moaning. “God, that’s fucking incredible.”

And he hadn’t even _touched_ it, that was the best part. Phobos had never seen Sung this strung out and desperate. The other man always took charge. Always had control. Always took care of Phobos. He had told Dylan that too, but now he was having second thoughts…

“I can call a hover.” Forget walking like this. “We can get back to the hotel in less than fifteen minutes.” Next time they could stay here, they could be more daring, they could dance and touch the whole night away… But right now they all wanted the same thing.

Each other with no barriers. Only for themselves.

*

“The girl at the front desk hates us.”

“Yeah well, that’s what you get for being handsy, sweetheart.”

“Can you blame me? Oh, gods damn it…” Sung and Dylan were shoulder to shoulder, standing at the front door uselessly as Sung jammed his wrist against it. “I suddenly get why you didn’t want us drinking.” 

“Well, that and the whole consent thing.” Dylan snorted. “God forbid you wake up the next morning and go ‘oh no! I had sex with that man!’”

“Gods, you two are awful!” Phobos weaseled between them and grabbed Sung’s wrist once more, flipping the communicator around again. “You know there are families in this hotel. With innocent children. Babies.” He added with a dirty look, knowing full well how hypocritical he must sound.

Dylan held his hands up as the lock trilled open. “I did my part by not making out with either of you in the elevator. That’s pretty impressive, if you ask me.”

“Scared of the cameras?” Sung grinned even as Phobos pushed him through the open door. “Thought you’d be more open to that, Germick.”

Dylan's spluttered, then rounded on him. “Remember how I mentioned birthday spankings before? I think it’s time I went through with it-”

“Hey now!”

Sung and Dylan were nose to nose as they glare-grinned at one another, this close to grabbing at one another and letting their tongues and teeth settle their differences. “I now know where to send Sung when he has energy.” Phobos said as he began to work his shoes off. “You’ll fuck the words right out of his mouth.”

Dylan rocked back on his heels with a low and eager whistle before following Phobos’s example. “Now that's an idea I can get behind.” He said to the floor, even as Sung gaped at him uselessly. Dylan looked up and waggled his finger cheekily. “C'mon, chop chop, the light up shoes do _not_ stay on, Sung."

Phobos did his best to smother his laughter, only to fail miserably as he covered his face up. How they had gone from all the breathless pressing and lack of personal boundaries to bickering like they were all married was beyond him, but it was… reassuring. The Lepid honestly didn’t want this to be just a sex thing. He wanted _all_ of it. “First Phobos, now you…” The empath was muttering in a sour little voice. “No one respects the light ups.”

Dylan stode over to him and plucked his visor off and surprisingly, Sung didn’t protest. He simply looked up at Dylan as his features became softer and his hands took to twisting in his lap. “You said you’ve been wanting to do this when you kissed me…”

The older man snorted and shook his head. “Don’t tell me you didn’t notice.”

“No, I did, I just- I just thought you were that way with everyone.” Sung could be so oblivious, but this time Phobos couldn't fault him. “And I mean, you can’t blame me, but I also wasn’t aware that my boyfriend was apparently polyamorous.”

Phobos shrugged and sat on the bed next to him. “You learn something new every day.” It really had been almost out of nowhere, his mind still catching on it. He hadn’t spent his formative years pining after Dylan, hadn’t traveled the cosmos and saved worlds and species and learned universal truths with him… but he cared for him all the same. “Really, it’s because of that time on the beach-”

Sung sat there and blinked before making a startled sound, jumping violently. “No way! When we were fucked up? I didn’t think you remembered that!” Dylan pulled a face but both aliens ignored it. “I didn’t wanna bring it up again in case you weren’t comfortable.” Tonight, it seemed, was truly full of secrets. Everything was a possibility. “You really did this for me...? All of it?”

“For us.” Phobos corrected him gently before giving him a short, soft kiss. “Dylan, also.” The human leaned in and kissed Sung first, and then, very carefully, he also kissed Phobos. He had missed this. The difference in touch, in weight, in how the other man existed. Both of them felt so right, like they were all made for each other. 

All the words left them as they began to pull at each other’s clothes, laughing and gasping into each other’s mouths as they fell down into the bed. “Are you okay with this?” Phobos whispered in the moonlit dark of the room, the light of Sung’s core making up for the rest of it. _This_ meaning how Sung was slotted up between them, in a position he had never really been in before. “You did say the hands all over _me_ …”

“No, no.” Dylan was working the rest of his hoodie down as Sung spoke. The empath’s fingers pulled his turtleneck up in turn, running along his flat stomach without meaning to, causing Phobos to wriggle with a small laugh. “It feels good. Feels right.” Sung whispered, seeming to surprise both of them. “So please-” He trailed off as Phobos undid the top button of his jeans before pulling the zipper down.

Everything blurred after that. His hand and Dylan’s working Sung’s length slowly, the human’s fingers slipping into the empath’s mouth as they did, slowly fucking his mouth as he worked the digits in and out. Sung’s hands scrambling at the sheets as he moaned helplessly, begging either of them to fuck him. And then Phobos sucking mark after mark into his boyfriend’s skin as he used the lube Dylan gave him to open his entrance up, taking his time and teasing him. 

Dylan slowly pushing his cock in, swearing at the tight heat and the way Sung supposedly felt around him, clutching the other man close. “Take it so well baby.” Dylan panted as he angled his hips that much deeper, until Sung was nearly sobbing from the want and the need of it and truly losing himself. 

Hands on him too, just like Sung had promised and dreamed of, their bodies getting further tangled up somehow. Sung on top of Phobos, both of them gasping and moaning, every thrust Dylan managed into Sung causing their dicks to rub together in a perfect push-pull of edging friction. Phobos’s own was painfully slick with the threat of climax, but it took it’s time coming, and he was eternally grateful for it. Everything smelled like sex and sweat and desperation and he never wanted it to stop.

But it did, it did, it blissfully did.

It was incredible. Dylan’s fingers slipping along Sung’s core, dipping deep inside, causing his spine to bend backwards with a tremulous cry as he hit his orgasm. Phobos could only lay there panting, feeling the way Sung’s dick twitched against his own aching hardness, not knowing what else to do with himself as he watched them. Sung whimpered when Dylan pulled out, and the other man leaned down before calmly telling the shuddering empath to help him finish. “With your pretty little mouth.” He added softly as he brushed Sung’s damp hair back from his forehead. “And make sure to swallow, okay, sweetheart?”

And it shouldn’t have been different but it was, somehow. He had gotten countless blowjobs from Sung but the fact that he was blissed out and floating through his own climax, Dylan carefully guiding him and watching it all hazily, made Phobos nearly lose it. “You can let go Phobos.” The human said before kissing him, swallowing the weak sob that left him as his vision went white and endless.

He didn’t know how much time passed but eventually he came back to himself, Sung curled up on one side of him with the light of his core pulsating dimly and Dylan akimbo on the other. “Hey, Pinky.” He hummed, causing Phobos to smile tiredly. “I think we did pretty good…”

Phobos closed his eyes and lay his hand over Dylan’s heart, listening to the way it went about slowly beating. “I can’t even imagine what next year is going to be like.” Phobos mumbled, causing Dylan to give his own worn out laugh. “But I’m sure we’ll figure something out.”

The weight of the _we_ wasn’t lost on Dylan. He shifted closer, kissed Phobos’s forehead. “We did this in a month, imagine what a whole year will give us, besides.” Dylan yawned loudly before they both began to slip off together to join Sung until they woke up again. “Yours is next in line, Phobos."

**Author's Note:**

> BRO THIS IS MY 50TH WORK HOLLA
> 
> Title is grabbed from Kim Petras "got my number" We stan a queen y'all.


End file.
